Sunday, 6 January 2013

Some Journey

 The taxi driver sang

 wordlessly, tunelessly,

 to the smell of sweat
 and cherries

 Passed by a bedraggled man

 holding words in black and red

'Don’t go to Hell' they said,

'It is a Place of Torment'

 The taxi driver muttered

“wasn’ goin that way, anyway”

 carried on his journey

 and his humming

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